Poem by David Rodriguez

Post navigation

razoring a paneled
wall, I look through the
Papez circuit’s velvet
curtains into a room
of toddlers’ fingers
superglued, Bombay
canaries’ buzzy flight,
mom’s bleach tipped,
paper cut hemophilia, and
dog year existentialism.
The desire to control
dreams never goes away:
eclipsing the callipygous
high school redhead or
smothering a local harrier
under a cotton pillow,
holding until the blood
volcano finish. In marble
stillness, the eyes gone,
the white skin slicked and
like me, worked,
the entire house in scrits
of razor screech, red and
green sleeves ribboned,
rayon and plaster carpet
debris discolored by the
jaundice lights the earth
prefers. I don’t want to
be alone every sunset,
but my dreams disobey so

David Rodriguez is a writer and teacher based in New Orleans with an MFA from Florida State University. He has previously been published in New Orleans Review, The Southeast Review, Hawai’i Review, Naugatuck River Review, and Viewfinder, among other places.

Bill Wolak has just published his fifteenth book of poetry entitled The Nakedness Defense with Ekstasis Press. His collages have appeared recently in Naked in New Hope 2016 and The 2017 Seattle Erotic Art Festival. Mr. Wolak teaches Creative Writing at William Paterson University in New Jersey.